The Bloodshed of Comrades
by Rapterkitten
Summary: Just as there always have been, there are wars. Short thing about Erwin and being the commander of a army that's full of dead men walking.


There are wars, just as there always have been.

Whether they be wars raged between two men, or war raged against man and creature. There have always been wars, for as long as anyone could remember. Wars of varying degrees and destruction. The war that went on endlessly beyond the safety of the walls was one example of a war with degrees unmatched. Casualties in every glance, bodies of soldiers as young as 17 scattered and maimed, unidentified and passing without notice by some.

It sometimes passed through the minds of my soldiers, some more than others, that they would not live to see the rest of their lives. The duty of a soldier was eternal- fighting through life, winning your glory and title. Fighting in death, a body and soul trapped on the battlefield, endlessly watching the constant death of comrades who failed to make it back home. It sometimes scratched their mind enough to make them run to the nearest superior and beg for some form of encouragement or praise, however pitiful or short it may be. But sometimes, more commonly, it just sat as a dead weight in the back of their mind. Ever present but not always lingering in conscious thought.

At least, these are my assumptions. I can not look into the minds of my soldiers to attempt identification of their thoughts, their glazed over emotions and panic riddled thoughts of battles and death. You may ask why these assumptions are so. It is because, as a leader, a ruler, a commander- I have climbed my way up as all others have. Dragged myself through war after war, my hands became blood stained, my sight and memories tormented with the remembrance of terrors seen only outside the walls. I have seen the bloodshed of so many. The bloodshed of friends, comrades, acquaintances, and as of late, the bloodshed of civilians. Each and every time, I myself take a blow, though not damaged physically. Always undamaged on the surface. Each and every death a little pinprick, each and every wailing and mourning family member or friend leaving a blow to the gut. There are days I want to collapse. But the weigh of being a commander, or being in charge of keeping the sanity of my soldiers present, keeps me from falling. Thought it is a heavy weight that suggests many times in a simple day that I will collapse at any moment, overtaken by human emotions, it somehow keeps me suspended above those around me. My feet lifted above the ground, starring over a sea of hesitant and scared soldiers of mixed talents and abilities. All possibly the next beacon of hope. All a help to the army. All of them a pawn in a large game of chess- a help, but expendable. The strongest gather behind them, their weapons raised in preparation.

But it is the strong who never go to battle. The strong ones flee to the Miltary Police, or are held back beyond the waves of pawns. The strongest are not the ones meant to go to battle. They are the ones that are meant to be on the sidelines, starring on at their comrades die because they are to weak to be saved. Yes, the strong are saved, though they need to savior. I would understand, I would know. I am among the strong. The squad leaders, the commanders, the warriors, the real fighters. Those of us who need no saving or protection yet receive it anyways. But, when the strong are allowed out upon the grounds of battle.. They are not the protected strong any longer. They are soldiers. Normal, ordinary soldiers. Fear filling their hearts. I would know. I would understand. Because, when I am sent out upon the battle field, when the plans have been riddled with holes and changed about, when I am faced with a life-and-death situation.. I, too, become a simple soldier. I share the bloodshed with my soldiers. But, they don't become my soldiers anymore in those times.. They become my equals. I am not their superior, they are not my subordinates. We are equals, fighting for our lives. It no longer becomes the bloodshed of my soldiers. I would know. I would understand. Because, when I am sent out upon the battle field, when the plans have been riddled with holes and changed about, when I am faced with a life-and-death situation.. I, too, become a simple soldier. I share the bloodshed with my soldiers. But, they don't become my soldiers anymore in those times.. They become my equals. I am not their superior, they are not my subordinates. We are equals, fighting for our lives.

It no longer becomes the bloodshed of my soldiers. It becomes the bloodshed of my equals- my real comrades. And that only sufficed in hurting me even more.


End file.
